Miss Purdy's Class by Annie Murray Read Free Book Online Page B

straight away, whereas Alice, though having neat handwriting, hardly seemed to be able to follow the work or complete anything properly in her exercise book.
    That morning, though, the class were all to discover something else which made Lucy Fernanadez different. Gwen was standing by the blackboard, writing up long multiplication sums. 643, she wrote, adding x 46 underneath it. Light poured in through the long windows, sunbeams dancing with dust. The class fidgeted, longing to be out playing.
    ‘Now.’ Gwen pointed at the chalky numbers with a ruler. ‘Who can tell me the first thing we have to do?’ She moved the ruler between the six and the three. ‘Alice?’
    Alice Wilson squinted at the blackboard. A desperate expression came over her face and she blushed in confusion. Some of the others had their hands up and a couple sniggered at Alice’s discomfort, but Gwen persevered.
    ‘Quiet, the rest of you! Come on now, Alice – six times three? Surely you know that by now?’
    A light dawned in her face. ‘Eighteen, Miss,’ the child whispered.
    ‘Yes. Good. Now – what do we do next?’
    Before anyone could answer there came a little clattering noise from the middle of the room. The children all craned round to see what was going on, then started giggling, staring at the floor. In the last fortnight Gwen had established her authority over them, but they knew she was not so fearsome that they couldn’t afford the occasional laugh in class.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Gwen asked sharply.
    ‘It’s Ron, Miss,’ one of the girls volunteered. ‘His pocket’s got an ’ole in and his sweets ’ve fallen out.’
    Ron Parks’s face was split in a black-toothed grin.
    ‘Ron, come up here.’
    The boy got up. As usual he was wearing a thick wool jumper, which covered his shorts reaching almost to his knees, and was trying to clutch at the hole in his pocket, but as he came up to the front a trail of several more sugar-coated pellets dropped to the floor, red, yellow and green, rolling away under the benches.
    ‘What are those?’ Gwen asked.
    ‘Liquorice comfits, Miss.’
    ‘And what are they doing in your pocket?’
    ‘I was going to eat ’em after school, like.’
    Gwen stared at Ron, trying to suppress at smile at the artless cheekiness of his face.
    ‘No wonder your teeth are the colour they are, Ron,’ she said severely. ‘Do you want to spend the rest of your life sucking soup off a spoon because you’ve got no teeth?’
    ‘Dunno, Miss Purdy.’
    ‘Why do you eat so many sweets?’
    Ron looked bemused. ‘That’s what there is. I live in a sweet shop, like.’
    ‘Oh, I see.’ At this, Gwen could no longer prevent herself smiling. An image came into her mind of Ron’s entire family settling down in the evening with their knives and forks poised over platefuls of liquorice comfits, dolly mixtures and coloured marzipan. ‘You do know sugar rots your teeth, don’t you?’
    ‘No, Miss.’
    ‘Well, it does . . .’ She was about to enlarge on this when there came another crash to her left. Lucy Fernandez had toppled off her chair and into the space between the desks. Gwen rushed over to find the child lying rigid on her side, hands clawlike, her body convulsing.
    ‘Oh my goodness!’ Gwen cried. The child’s face was tinged with blue. Her eyes were half closed. She saw immediately that Lucy was suffering from some kind of fit, but she had no idea what to do.
    ‘Stay in your places!’ she cried, and ran next door. She was about to hiss ‘Miss Dawson’ to get Millie’s help, when to her horror, instead of Millie’s friendly face, she saw the severe features of Miss Monk. The woman’s head whipped round.
    ‘Yes?’ It was almost a snarl.
    Gwen went up close. ‘Could you please come and help me a moment? One of my girls seems to be having a fit.’
    Miss Monk turned to the class. ‘If any of you move or speak it’ll be straight to the headmaster’s office.’
    ‘Looking for attention, I